


Things just are.

by thisismybrainrain



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismybrainrain/pseuds/thisismybrainrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 1. New Roommate. Carm's thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things just are.

**Author's Note:**

> makes reference to extremely loud and incredibly close by j.s foer  
> i just have a lot of feelings about carmilla and her many lives and how she must have felt on seeing laura for the first time.
> 
> also the keats theory i've been reading got me thinking so i had to write this.
> 
> come find me on tumblr thisismybrainrain

nothing lives because nothing really dies – against those of the world of finished histories or romance: a dimension which is always present because always always already gone. There, nothing really dies because it is really lives. 

-Majlorie Levinson. 

-

 

Things just are. 

Nothing Carmilla does changes 300 plus years only improves the present moment it’s all made up of now after now after. 

Life falls into strict time categories. 

Ballroom. Kitten. The Ground. Silas on repeat. Holidays. Saigon. Silas.

Then well, then the record spits and the categories become blurred when Laura Hollis turns around from her desk. Her eyes brown-hazel bright and the autumn should be whipping at Carmilla’s bare arms from the open window. All she feels is the faint tinge of the room. So much incandescent light and so much golden skin on display near the girl’s small neck stretching over her collarbones that are visible beneath the khaki cotton. 

Flicking her eyes up Carmilla adjusts her neck and tips her head upwards. Hey, she says clearly. It floats heavy from her chest - her voice rougher than usual. She clears her throat. I’m your new roommate, sweetheart. 

The girl has a hard stare, determined. There are sparks spilling out of her and Carmilla uses up all her willpower not to brace herself against the wooden doorframe. She’s bowled over right now. Apathetic is what apathetic does and the cool detached manner she’s perfected over the years must stick in place if she’s to help this girl escape. She is only a target. She is only a target. Carmilla breathes out. Muscle memory. In and out. She throws her leather backpack on the bed across from Laura. Her name is Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. Carmilla runs it over in her head. Cute. She opts for Cutie in general conversation on that first night. 

Detached is always best like this. Fend her off. Make her think she doesn’t care at all. The trail will be cold just like the night and all Carmilla longs for right now is the stars. Something sure. Something she isn’t set to pounce on. Something she hasn’t been summoned to control. 

She sees the girl’s Tardis mug and thinks she must dream of other places. She wonders how many places she’s been, or, if this is the Cutie’s first time away from home. 

Laura is grumbling about Betty her roommate being missing. Carmilla knows. There’s dry cracks forming in her throat. She so badly wants to break her silence. She knows the game by now. Her boots are weighty tonight like that boy in that book she’d read on the train over and she cannot figure out which of her palms she likes best today. Which one is less red with the blood of the girls she couldn’t save. 

Here is Laura. Laura Hollis. Beautiful, ball of rage and for once, for once, Carmilla just wants to be a student at Silas. A true student with no forced, hidden agendas. This bright ball of a girl glued to her computer chair makes her want to believe in more than the night sky, makes her want to believe in people again. 

She locks herself in the bathroom. Runs the shower and the girl is still at her desk typing angrily. Trying to find answers about Betty.  
She runs the shower to drown out the sound of hope. This too hopeful human who will have all of her wants crushed by Maman. Just like Carmilla had all those skies ago. 

She breathes out and reaches her hands into the spattering of water.  
The blood sticks between her fingers. She rubs harder and harder. Her eyes blink heavily. The blood feels sticky. It looks more translucent. She shuts off the shower and reaches for a hand towel. Stark white. Her hands leave no traces. 

There’s a soft knocking at the door. 

It’s Laura, Carmilla, she says, I wondered if you wanted to help me find Betty. 

Carmilla looks up at herself in the mirror. Still pink from her last kill. A badger - awful but sustaining. 

She nods, let’s the name roll of her tongue in a whisper, Laura. 

She walks into the fray of room 307 and looks straight into Laura’s eyes. There’s a wrinkle in between her eyebrows and her hair is mussed from concentration. 

Okay, Cutie. Carmilla says, let’s begin. 

It was going to be a long semester.


End file.
